


Three Years

by elletromil



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Fix-It, Fluff, Humor, M/M, tiny bit of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/pseuds/elletromil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy just wants a shower, something to eat and a semi-comfortable surface to crash on for at least 12 hours, not necessarily in this order.</p><p>But that was before he came back home to a cereal thieving ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cereal Thief

**Author's Note:**

> So last month I reblogged some "imagine your otp aus" sentences on tumblr and ask people to prompt me, which they did. I finally came around to answer those prompt and this is the result. Some of you might already have read this one if you follow me, but since I've gotten some ideas as to how to link the three ficlets of the Cereal Thief 'verse together, I'm posting this as the first chapter of the story.
> 
> There should be 6 chapters total, including that one. There's two more already written (for those of you who don't wanna wait, you can go look in my fanfic tag on tumblr (same username); the stories are Mostly okay and Split Lip) and chapter 2 is ~1/3 written.
> 
> As always I don't have a beta, so if you spot some mistakes don't hesitate in telling me so that I can correct them :)

Eggsy knows he’s going to get an earful for going home before being debriefed at HQ, but right now he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s back from a three weeks undercover mission that was utter shite where he had next to no contact with his handler and he just wants a shower, something to eat and a semi-comfortable surface to crash on for at least 12 hours, not necessarily in this order.

Anyway, he’s already made contact with Merlin to tell him the mission was a success and that hey, by the way, yes I am alive no thanks to the rubbish intel I’ve been given. The man should know by now that when Eggsy is that pissed off, he won’t be seen on Kingsman ground for at least a day, unless they want him to blow up the manor out of misguided spite.

He knows of course that Merlin is the mother hen to end all mother hen and that debriefing is where he can reassure himself that the homecoming agent is really in once piece and that if they so much as have a scratch on them then they’ll get the appropriate medical attention, but for the time being he doesn’t feel like humouring his friend. Even if the bad intel wasn’t his fault, because Merlin couldn’t be his handler for that mission for some reason or another, he’s told the man a million times that Mordred was brain-dead and couldn’t be trusted with the life of a fish, even less so that of an agent. That Mordred won’t ever be allowed near an agent after the clusterfuck he’s caused is a small consolation right now.

But mother hen or not, Merlin has always been respectful of his need of space after a cock-up mission, which is why Eggsy is surprised to see him sitting in one of his kitchen chair once he comes in. He still doesn’t want any human contact with anyone, so he doesn’t mind ignoring the man while he makes his way to the pantry, where he’s sure he has some cereal left, the only thing that will still be edible after so long away and won’t take more time than necessary to make.

And that would be it, but as he steps into the kitchen proper he spies the cereal box on one of the counter and right next to it, leaning against the cabinets as if he owns the place, a ghost.

His eyes and the ghost’s meet, both freezing mid-move, the ghost about to bring a spoonful up to his mouth and Eggsy with a foot hovering in the air and they probably would have stayed a long time like this if Merlin hadn’t cleared his throat.

“Eggsy, I-” the ghost starts, but no, just... _no_ , Eggsy is having none of this, not right now.

He takes the first thing that falls under his hand and throws it at the cereal thief, unconcerned if the object will break or if it will hit its mark, just takes whatever else that is in his reach and continues throwing them in the direction of the apparition.

“You fucking prick, you’re a fucking asshole, what the fuck d'you think you’re doing, bloody hell, you old git how dare you show your ugly face here?”

By now he’s made it to the specter and has stopped throwing random objects at him in favor of hitting him weakly on his chest, the exhaustion of the previous weeks greater than his rage. It doesn’t help when after a couple of minutes where the apparition lets him do as he pleases, the ghost proceeds to give him the best hug of his life. His hold is warm and firm and a better person than Eggsy would have find themselves leaning against that strength for comfort, especially after the hell he’s lived through these past few weeks. He would be quite content to stay right there for a small eternity, drunk on the smell of Harry Hart, alive and in the flesh, but of course the man has other plans and has to open his stupid mouth far too soon.

“Eggsy… I know you’re probably angry and I-”

“Probably?” He pushes himself away from the embrace even if it’s nearly physically hurting him to do so, the outrage stronger than his sense of relief once again. “Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereals and faked your death for three years!” Harry’s eyes widen comically when the cereal are mentioned and well, okay maybe Eggsy has some fucked up priorities right now, but no one could blame him after coming back from such a clusterfuck only to find his former dead mentor very much alive in his kitchen eating the very same thing he had had fantasies about not a few minutes ago.

“Sorry? For the cereal I mean, had I known you felt so strongly about them I-” Eggsy cuts him off for the third time, this time with a death glare that makes Merlin chuckles with how effective it is. Chuckles that die quickly in his throat when the scowl is turned towards him.

“You, you don’t get to laugh, you’re as much a prick as him, three fucking years Merlin! It never crossed your mind to say anything?”

Merlin opens his mouth to answer, an affronted look on his face, but Harry is coming to his defense before he can say a word. “Merlin could not have said anything to you as he didn’t know I was alive.” Eggsy is about to interrupt him, _again_ , but a pointed look makes him hold his tongue at last. “The only reason he seems to not be angry with me is because he gets to laugh at me over your reactions to my return and he’s had about two weeks to digest the news.”

“Don’t forget I got to punch you in the face,” Merlin smiles smugly, grinning devilishly when he hears Eggsy’s amused snort. “Watching it on loop has had some kind of cathartic effect on me… I’ll send you the feed Eggsy, I’m sure it’ll help.”

Harry wisely elects not to say anything about that particular subject, instead inviting Eggsy to take a seat for the duration of his explanations. “Except of course, if you’d rather get some rest beforehand, I gathered you’ve just come back from a somewhat tiring mission?”

“You’re kidding right? If you think you’re getting out of explaining three fucking _years_ so easily, that bullet must have caused more damages than you thought.” He knows he’s not really being fair right now, because it’s only obvious concerns that prompted Harry into suggesting that he rests, but at the same time _three fucking years_. “The only thing you’re doing _beforehand_ , is order in some food. Food which you’ll be paying for.” He narrows his eyes, as if challenging Harry to protest, but the man only nods.

“Of course, I would not have accepted otherwise, since I’ve seemed to deprive you of your cereal.” It is said quite seriously, but even after all these years, Eggsy can easily recognize the fucking glint of mischief in Harry’s eyes and so, he has no qualms throwing some knickknack at the man’s retreating back as he goes to phone whatever restaurant he’ll order from, exchanging a smirk with Merlin at the little ‘oof’ of pain that escapes his lips when the object hits his mark.


	2. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So turns out my muse is good to me lately and I'm already back with the next chapter. It somehow got longer than I thought it would and will probably be the longest of the story.
> 
> Anyway, the third chapter should be up tomorrow as it is one I've already written, but I want to tweak it a little before posting it.

The following discussion hadn't gone bad, at least until Harry had finished telling what he had been up to during those years, Kingsman in desperate need of a ghost operative to do some cleaning amongst their own ranks. That Eggsy can understand and readily admit that it was a smart thing to do.

No, what made him throw Harry out of his home was when the man told him who his contact had been during his time pretending to be dead.

“Dagonet? As in the fucking tailor, Dagonet? Are you taking the piss?”

Of course Merlin had stayed behind, unconcerned about Eggsy's anger, knowing it wasn't directed at him. He had reminded the young man that Dagonet was still one of their oldest and best agents even if most of Kingsman seemed to forget it as he had elected to stay out of the field, preferring to guard the shop instead. Which had turned out to be a good thing for the organisation as it had allowed Dagonet and Harry to do the necessary clean-up under the radar.

“Still, three _fucking_ years, Merlin. He could have said something.” He knows he must sound like some spoiled brat, but he cannot help that it hurts. Three years is a long time and if he's done his grieving by now, in no way does it means he's stopped missing Harry a bit every day.

“He could have said, yes,” Merlin agrees easily, even if what he says next makes it clear that his agreement doesn't come at the cost of his understanding of Harry's actions. “But, Eggsy, have you considered that maybe he didn't contact either of us because it would have been harder for him to stay away like he needed to?”

He hadn't of course, blinded by his own hurt feelings and how unaffected Harry had seemed while talking to him earlier. Which he couldn't have been, not really, not when he had made sure Eggsy would know of his return as soon as was possible without disrupting the mission he had been on. Not when he had ordered from Eggsy's favourite restaurant and had kept watching him as if to make sure he was really eating what was on his plate.

Not when, even faced with Eggsy's righteous anger, he had seemed so reluctant to leave.

*

“Ah, Eggsy, I had hoped I would see you today.”

He has half a mind to ignore the tailor and just get on his way to the dining room, but even if he's still pissed at Harry for making him believe he was dead for such a long time and he's kind of angry at Dagonet too, one look at the old tailor genuinely apologetic face makes him stay.

“What's up?” The tailor's lips quirk in a tiny smile like it always does when faced with Eggsy's less ceremonious ways. It's one of the reason he likes Dagonet so much, the man not giving a rat's arse about what most of the older stuffy Knights call a sense of propriety or such other non-sense.

“I was wondering if you had some minutes to spare? I got something for you in the backroom.” Dagonet is already making his way to said room, not even looking back to make sure Eggsy really is following. Not that he would have any reason to doubt Eggsy would come after him, since he only hesitated once going into the backroom, a little less than three years ago, the first time the tailor had requested his presence there.

He had had something for him that first time too, some cuff-links Harry had ordered but never had the chance to pick-up. The man had thought that what with Eggsy being his former protégé and taking over the Galahad’s mantel, he would maybe like having some kind of reminder of his mentor.

Thinking about it now, Eggsy wonders if Dagonet had already known at the time that Harry was still alive and kicking, wonders which men's idea it had really been. If the cuff-links had indeed been intended for Harry or himself all this time.

He cannot say which one he’d prefer and he doesn’t bother asking.

It’s long in the past now and Harry coming back from the dead won’t change the fact that it was the moment he really started to grieve for the man, slowly letting go of the hurt and sadness.

Dagonet had been so helpful in all his grieving process, always ready to tell him about all the things he knew about the late Galahad, one of the few in the organisation he could go to. Not that he could blame the other agents as they all had been busy trying to straighten the world as much as they could, Eggsy included, but even with Merlin, it was clear the subject was still too sensitive to really talk about. Oh, the handler would let out some tidbits of information once in a while, but he would always get that sad smile that made Eggsy too uncomfortable to ask for more.

Dagonet though… Well he had had a queer look in his eyes sometimes when they got talking about Harry, but most of the time he had been the one volunteering information about what the agent had been like. Especially after Eggsy had start coming to him so he could learn a bit more about the tailoring business in order to make his cover more believable. The day Eggsy had asked him to teach him, the old agent had had that surprised look and Eggsy had feared he would get laughed at or something, until his expression had gotten warm and proud because rare were the agents to think about it. Harry had been one of the few to actually spend some days simply working at the shop and it had pleased the boy to no end to learn it was something he shared with the man, even though he wasn’t there any longer.

It had been a bit like the pleasure of donning the suit Harry had had made just for him and which Dagonet had made another one of, partly in thanks for saving the world, partly in congratulation for making it into an agent. When the tailor had notice Eggsy’s obvious preference for that particular suit, he had started telling him about the ones Harry had favoured and while they simply wouldn’t do for someone with Eggsy’s body type and age, he had gladly accepted to altered some design so they would be more appropriate for the young man.

Of course it could have been seen has Eggsy unable to move on from Harry’s death, but it was instead the opposite. Harry wouldn’t come back and he would probably always feel that pang of sadness when thinking about him, but the man had giving him so much, more than even Harry himself had probably been aware of, that he didn’t want to forget how he had come to such an opportunity.

And Dagonet had never once judge him for his need to remember, had soon become something akin to a confident inside Kingsman. Roxy was great of course, the best really, but there was a few things he would never be comfortable enough sharing with her because she cared too much. Not that Dagonet didn’t, but the tailor had seemed to understand straight away that sometimes Eggsy only needed someone to listen and nothing more.

Maybe he should feel more hurt to find out that someone he trusts so much has been lying to him for such a long time, but the things is, as soon as he makes it into the backroom, Eggsy realises he’s not. It isn’t like the man owes him anything and, given the circumstances, he’s done more for him than Eggsy would have expected from anyone.

“I won’t apologize for the secrecy we had to observe Harry and me, even though I sincerely wish there had been some way to let you know of the truth.” From anyone else, it would be just a load of crap, but Eggsy does not doubt the other agent's honesty for a second.

“I’m not angry… Not at you anyway.”

Dagonet snorts at that, clearly amused. “I had a feeling you would feel that way. Which is why I’ve been saving these.” He’s brandishing what seems to be a stack of letters that had been stashed away in one of the numerous hidden safe of the room and tuts in annoyance when he sees Eggsy isn’t making any move to take them. “Go on boy, they’re all addressed to you.”

They truly are, his name elegantly handwritten on each envelop and while he’s never seen his handwriting, he would bet his money it’s Harry’s.

“What’s this?”

“I don’t know what they contains,” Eggsy’s derisive snort doesn’t stop him but his little grin makes it clears he knows the boy doesn’t believe him and that he's right not to, “but I gather they’re explanation of a kind. Harry asked me to give you those in the events something happened to him before he could reveal he was very much alive. Now, I know he’s back in one piece, but I still feel you should read them.”

It is a very real temptation to just rip them to shreds in a show of anger, but the thing is, Eggsy has no idea what Harry can have written him, not in so many letters and his curiosity must show because Dagonet pats his shoulder comfortingly as he makes his way out.

“The oldest is on top and I’ll make sure no one disturb you. Take all the time you need.”

He waits until the door closes behind the tailor before taking a seat and opening the first letter.

 

_My dear Eggsy,_

_If you get that letter..._

*

When the door of his office opens without anyone having knocked first, Harry knows who he’ll see when he looks up from the paperwork he’s in the process of signing. 

Nevertheless, he cannot say he isn’t surprise that Eggsy has come to see him already. It hasn’t even been a day since the boy threw him out of his house and quite frankly he had been convinced Eggsy would be avoiding him for as long as he could get away with considering that Harry is now his boss.

But it is indeed Eggsy storming inside his office and, as he strides behind the desk, Harry braces himself for the punch that is sure to follow. Not that he particularly wants to be hit in the face again, but he does understand his friends’ want of doing so. Were he in their position, he would undoubtedly do the exact same thing.

So it comes as a surprise when instead of a fist connecting to his jaw, he gets two arms wrapped around him, holding tight and he can do nothing more but return the embrace.

“Eggsy?” He’s reluctant to break the moment, but he cannot help but be curious about what brought such a change in attitude in the boy in such a short lapse of time.

Eggsy leans away, but only so he can get more comfortable sitting in his lap and even if Harry doesn’t understand, he sure won’t complain, especially not when his boy tucks his head under his chin.

“I’m still furious,” the words are mumble against his shoulder, but still clear as day.

He refrains from commenting that Eggsy acts strangely for someone who supposedly feels anger, feeling that he only needs to wait for an explanation concerning what is currently happening.

“I mean, I understand why you did it, but I can’t change the fact I’m still so angry I could kill you myself,” Eggsy continues after a while and, despite their current position, Harry has no trouble believing the boy. “Still, it’d be stupid to let that come in the way, not when anything could happen anytime.” He feels him sigh before he leans away just enough so that he can look Harry in the eyes. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I missed you too.”

He waves weakly a sheet of paper Harry had not notices had been in his hand and the short glimpse he gets before Eggsy wraps his arms around him again is enough for him to recognize his own handwriting.

He stays frozen in shock for a second because there is no way Eggsy should have these in his possession, until he realises that Dagonet must have given them to the boy instead of destroying them as he had asked him to.

Maybe he should feel crossed by the man, but it’s hard to summon the energy to be so when he got Eggsy exactly where he’s wanted him after all these years.


	3. Mostly okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, third chapter is here :) The next one will probably take a little while longer as I'll be writing for some of my other fic (I've horribly neglected Only a foul would deny love, so I'll mainly be working on that one).

“I’m like 75% sure this won’t explode on us.” It’s not as reassuring as it might sound, given the fact that it means there’s a 25% possibility the bomb that’s meant to destroy a good third of the city is going to explode on them. But right now, cut off from Merlin or any other kind of support, it’s the best Eggsy can offer his mission partner.

Harry starts cursing rather imaginatively and even if it'll probably not change anything to the situation, he’s glad that whatever is currently disrupting communication with HQ isn’t affecting his line with the man, even though he’s in another part of the warehouse entirely.

“How good are you with bombs?” Harry ends up asking after fruitlessly trying to contact Merlin again.

“Not as good as Gawain, but I do mostly okay.” They both know that _mostly okay_ won’t cut it, not with that kind of bomb, that there is no room for error, however they don’t have another choice but to try. They could always try to move the device, but Eggsy fears it is too unstable to do so safely and anyway there’s nowhere far enough away from the city and its people to bring it in the little time left to do so.

“Do it Galahad.” Harry’s voice is rough with tension, a tension that Eggsy more than share with him. A single wrong move and it’s going to be his last.

“Arthur…” He cuts himself and he knows it’s against all protocols ever, but he doesn’t give a damn. That code-name doesn’t have its place right now, not with what he wants to ask the man. “Harry,” he starts again, voice a bit more firm, “talk to me?”

“Dear boy,” it is closer to an exhale than even a whisper, but the wonders of Kingsman’s technology makes it so that Eggsy hears it as clearly as if Harry was in the same room, as if he was right here with him, breathing in his ear and Eggsy has never yearned for something more in his entire life. “Anything you want.”

Harry clears his throat and afterwards, Eggsy would be hard pressed to say any of what the man had told him, content to pretend it’s only one more training exercise, letting the voice in his ears lull him into a false sense of security.

It’s only once the countdown is down to two minutes and the next wire he cuts will either stop the explosion or be its cause that he snaps out of it.

“Harry?” It’s bad manner to cut someone mid-sentence, but he’s sure the man won’t mind this time around.

“Yes?” It’s a bit breathless because for the past minutes Harry has been fighting his way to him, the groans of pain from whatever guards still left standing never interrupting him from saying whatever nonsense was coming to his mind in answer to Eggsy’s request.

“I’m not angry anymore.” Because God only knew how angry he had been at Harry, Harry who for _three years_ had pretended to be dead. Eggsy had forgiven him, of course, knowing that, especially in their line of work, life was too short to hold a grudge and lose precious moments away from the man he loved so much. But he had made sure Harry knew he was still pissed as hell at him. Now though, he cannot even remember the reasons behind his anger and he only wishes Harry had been quick enough so that he could see him one last time before cutting that wire.

“ _Eggsy_ …” Harry’s voice is thick with longing, but he doesn’t say more, because they both _know_.

Eggsy clenches his teeth so that no nervous sob will escape him, closes his eyes so he can fool himself into believing Harry is just behind him, close enough to touch, and, after a bracing breath, cuts the wire.

*

“So what if I broke my arm, I’m still doing it.” Eggsy would never have imagined in his wildest dreams he would ever hear Harry sounding so petulant, but the man does seem to be channeling his inner spoiled five years old at the moment.

Cutting the wire had done the trick disarming the bomb and the two agents had met midway out of what they thought had been a cleared out warehouse.

Still running high on adrenaline and plain old relief at being alive, they had lost some precious minutes snogging each other silly, unfortunately losing tracks of their surroundings, allowing the few remaining guards still alive to get the jump on them.

Said guards had paid it with their lives of course, but not before Harry, by some unlucky manoeuver to get out of shooting range, had fallen on his arm, breaking it in the process.

They were now arguing if Harry would be coming with Eggsy to the lair of the evil mastermind that had been behind the bomb despite his injuries. Harry main argument being that as communications still hadn’t been re-established with HQ, Eggsy would have no back-up, while Eggsy’s was of course that Harry had a _broken arm_.

“We just have to strap it tightly and I’ll be fine. You know I can’t feel pain.” Because even if Harry had survived getting shot in the head three years ago it hadn’t been without consequences, even if in their line of work it was more of an advantage than an hindrance, to a certain point.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t cause more damages.” Who would have thought Eggsy would be the reasonable one? Certainly not Eggsy himself, even if he meets Harry’s eyes firmly, not budging on his own position.

“I’ll stay in the car if you want Eggsy, but I’m not leaving you go alone. Not now that we can’t be sure Lady Beth doesn’t have any more surprises lying in wait for us.” Because whatever is disrupting communications with Merlin right now shouldn’t have be there and Eggsy knows that all they’re doing right now is wasting precious minutes they can’t be sure they can spare to waste. Anyway, he’s pretty sure that even were he to leave Harry standing in the middle of the street, the man would find a way to follow him.

“If you die, I swear to God I’ll find a way to revive you and kill you myself.”

“I would not expect anything else.” They stay standing a moment more, just to drink in the sight of the other, alive, then climb in the car, once more two professional spies.

They have a criminal mastermind to stop.


End file.
